


Insatiable

by QueenNoPlot



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Body Worship, Breeding, Desk Sex, F/M, Kissing, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Spike - Freeform, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, sex in inconvenient places, valve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:41:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24737842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenNoPlot/pseuds/QueenNoPlot
Summary: Pyra Magna is in heat, and nowhere is off limits.
Relationships: Optimus Prime/Pyra Magna
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	Insatiable

**Author's Note:**

> In-heat Pyra is a ravenous animal, you’re welcome.

It‘s mildly inconvenient. Not necessarily uncomfortable, but Optimus would have liked to move to a more private location. Not that he  doesn’t like being pinned to the top of his desk and fragged to incoherency. He just wishes he could have locked the door first. But by the time Pyra had pushed him onto his back and he caught the undeniable scent of heat pheromones, he knew resistance was futile. Now he prays to Primus that no one opens that door. If anyone were to get so much as a glimpse of him like this, legs splayed wide around the vigorously thrusting beast of a Magna, he would never hear the end of it. Not to mention the noises he makes in the throes of ravishment are embarrassingly obscene. She and Elita-One are the only two who have ever had the honor of hearing the Prime’s interface vocals, and he would like to keep it that way.

Of course, the subpar soundproofing of his office might change that.

He tries not to think about it and focuses on the teal and magenta frame above him, the ceaseless friction in his valve, and the pleasant repetition of their hips colliding. She snarls, flashing her fangs at him, and he nearly overloads. Seeing and experiencing Pyra in such a frenzied state really does a lot for him sexually. It’s no wonder she can so easily seduce him during her heat cycle.

Not that she actually needs a heat cycle to help her seduce him.

Holding tightly to the edge of the desk, Optimus manages to stave off his overload at least until her grip threatens to bend his pelvic armor, a surefire sign of her own impending climax. He’s sure he’s denting his desk, but all he can do is throw his helm back and gasp as his frame goes stiff with activating charge. In a matter of klicks the charge gathers in his valve and overloads his pleasure system, forcing a shout from his vocalizer. It’s followed by a harsh release of lubricant that only allows Pyra to slide in and out of him even faster.

With a roar the femme slams herself into him one last time, pulling hard on his pelvic armor to make sure she overloads as deep in his valve as is physically possible. Optimus moans at the feeling of transfluid ejecting right up against the entrance of his gestation chamber. Frame hunched over him, Pyra growls as she grinds into him, spike still erect.

* * *

They make it to the storage closet near the science lab. It became the destination when Optimus realized Pyra was stalking him from behind, looking ready to jump him at any moment. He manages to get through the door and close it before she advances into his personal space and pushes him against the nearest storage shelf. He finds a good hold on the most convenient rack, the panels come off, and his valve is filled for the umpteenth time this solar cycle.

Pyra wraps her servos around him and starts thrusting at a brutal pace. The Prime has to fight to not be as loud as he was during the previous rounds, seeing how their inconvenient location lacks soundproofing entirely. Pyra is content to just huff and growl, of course. With their arrays being overstimulated already, it doesn’t take long for them to overload.

As they come down from their highs, they’re startled by movement beside them. Pyra’s leg kicks out and the door slams shut, accompanied by the surprised yelp of whoever had started to open it. Purring, the femme dismounts her Prime, manually closes both of their panels, and nudges him to move.

“Pyra, we should clean the–“

“Berth.”

“What?”

“ Berth ,” she growls as she takes his hand. “ _Now_.”

* * *

Pyra pins her mech to the wall, sliding her hands down his sides. In one fluid motion she gets her hands under his aft and lifts him up. He responds quickly, gripping her shoulders and wrapping his legs tightly around her waist. Expecting to be taken against said wall, as it’s still on their list of places to frag, Optimus retracts his panel. The femme growls in approval, but she turns and carries him to the berthroom, quite set on ravishing him on a more luxurious surface.

She’s carried him around before, but it still feels odd and there’s a certain relief for both of them when she deposits him not-so-gently onto the berth. He moves into the middle of the nest of mesh sheets, leans back on his servos, and puts his peds flat on the berth to spread his legs in a wide invitation. He can feel a bit of her transfluid from earlier leaking out of his valve, and the sight of it only excites Pyra further.

His femme crawls onto the berth, onto him. Her spike is out and she assumes her mounting position, only making a couple of shifts before she finds his valve. Once again she penetrates him, grinds in as deep as she can, and starts thrusting. Optimus’s helm falls back as he moans, fingers searching for purchase on teal shoulder armor. Once he’s secured a hold on her, she growls possessively, picking up her pace until the force of her rutting sends the helmboard knocking against the wall. Fortunately, the only room behind that wall is a storage unit, so unless anyone decides now is the time to fetch something, no one will be subjected to the tell-tale rhythm.

This also allows the Prime and his queen to be as loud as they want. Pyra doesn’t make much noise when she’s on top, even in heat, but Optimus more than makes up for it.

His vocalizations urge Pyra on. She grips his pelvic armor to pull him into her thrusts. He loves it, and when she dives down to sink her fangs into his neck, he overloads. He cries out, his legs clamp against her sides, and his fingers threaten to bend her shoulder armor. His valve constricts and he’s thrown into a secondary overload when she keeps pounding him into the berth, until finally she reaches her own climax. With a few finishing thrusts, Pyra buries herself deep. She holds onto him with hands and fangs, growling, her bite drawing energon when her transfluid release mechanism fires, just a tiny bit lagged from its recent overuse. Aside from the tremors of pleasure in his legs, Optimus stays completely still. Every mech knows how ravenous a femme in heat is, and he’d rather not have to visit the medical bay because Pyra literally fragged his struts loose for disengaging before she was ready.

Finally, Pyra relaxes and removes her teeth from his neck so she can lick his wounds. It’s not a bad injury, but the marks will be noticeable for a couple of solar cycles. When she’s satisfied, she moves her helm up to mouth his audio, then his earpiece. He simply lies there and purrs, the pleasant flow of leftover activated charge in his circuits keeping him suspended in post-coital bliss.

The femme‘s spike slides back into its protective sheath. She begins to purr as well, leaning to mouth at his neck again. At first Optimus thinks she’s going to straddle him and ride his spike into tomorrow, but she doesn’t remove his legs from where they hang lazily around her waist. She gently rubs at the small dents in his pelvic armor as she laves her glossa over the little punctures she left with her fangs. When he feels her continue around the front of his neck, he tilts his helm up to allow her easy access.

Purring louder, she drags her mouth over the other side of his neck, along his jaw, and back up to his audio, kissing and licking the whole way. He shifts when she moves up his earpiece. She growls and secures it between her teeth, making him go stock still.

“Ah...Pyra...?”

She lets his earpiece go and slides her glossa up the edge of it, then dives down to his chassis, startling him when she goes straight for the bottom edge of his windshields. He hadn’t noticed, but apparently he had achieved a spike overload and splattered transfluid all over his lower chassis. His faceplates heat up with an intense blush as he watches his femme, his queen, eagerly clean him with her glossa. When she gets to the Prime’s still-exposed array, he puts his helm back on the berth. He tries not to be too vocal, but she is extremely thorough in erasing all evidence of their coupling, and he can’t help an embarrassing whimper when she goes so far as to push his legs and angle him just enough to clean his aft plating as well. Then she pulls one of his legs up and sets about grooming every plate she can reach while situated between his thighs.

He relaxes, taking his chance to close his panel while Pyra’s busy licking his ped. He closes his optics when she moves on to his other leg, content to just let her handle him. His leg is put back down and suddenly her weight leaves the berth. He opens his optics and sits up to find she’s left the room. Having an idea of where she’s gone, he moves himself back to sit against the helmboard, kicking the fluid-coated sheet off the berth as he does so. She returns shortly with a full energon cube. She about pounces onto his lap, then pushes the cube against his chassis until he takes it.

“Thank you, Pyra,” he rumbles, caressing one side of the magenta chevron on her helm with his thumb.

Optimus receives a heavy pulse of  love/contentment through their spark bond and the Torchbearer leans into him, her faceplates tucked against his neck. He shifts down the berth just enough to lean back comfortably, keeping a hand on Pyra’s back to hold her in place against his frame. Holding onto him with a hand on his shoulder, the femme puts her other hand on his chassis. She traces the lines of his seams, purring as he drinks the energon she brought him. When he’s finished, he sets the empty cube on the berthside desk, wraps a servo around Pyra’s waist, and moves again, this time to lie down completely.

“Optimus,” comes her tired mumble.

He helps her get situated, half on top of him with her helm and servo on his chassis and her leg thrown over his. He tightens his servo around her waist.

“Yes, Pyra?”

She opens her optics and looks up at him with just a hint of a smile. “My heat has been satisfied.”


End file.
